


A Song of the King of the Sea

by Ael_tRlailiiu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/M, Mild Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ael_tRlailiiu/pseuds/Ael_tRlailiiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ursula is in trouble. Without magic and missing some memories, she fears something may have happened to her father, and turns to Emma and Killian for assistance. A mystery awaits them in the oceans of the Echanted Forest. For obvious reasons, this requires our heroes to be turned into merfolk. </p><p>Described by one reader as "a ripping good adventure," this takes place in a break I have imagined between everyone’s return to Storybrooke in 5.23 and the arrival of Mr Hyde, because good god, do our characters need some time off. </p><p>Title is from a verse of “Fathoms Below”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emma stretched and leaned over the  _ Jolly Roger _ ’s rail to watch the water dance in the setting sun. “This is the… third best idea you have had today.”

“So precise, Swan. I can guess the first one, I hope.” Killian grinned at her from behind the wheel. “What was the second?”

“Coffee.” She turned her back to the rail and smirked as she cataloged the day. A lazy morning in bed, the better part of the day spent unpacking and arranging their house -- their house! -- an afternoon on the water, a little more time in  _ that _ bed.... “I don’t think it gets any better than this.”

“Agreed.” He gave her that smile, the one she had schemed but failed to capture on camera, a little shy and wondering, so unlike his usual rakish pose.

A week. It hadn’t even been a  _ week  _ since Hades came to Storybrooke, since Emma came back from the Underworld alone. She pulled in a deep breath, cold and salty and real as the wood beneath her hands. None of this was a desperate dream, a last-ditch attempt at denial; this was real. If she felt tired, it was the pleasant kind that came from a day of honest work and a fair amount of play, and not the sleepless exhaustion of despair.

“You’re smiling,” he said.

“Just thinking that maybe I understand my parents better than I used to.” Emma hesitated, but she had promised herself not to do that, not to hold back. “I never thought about what my life would be like in the future, y’know? I was always just getting by, making do, and moving on before anything wore out. I thought it would be hard to change, but… it’s not. So far.”

In a while they would put in, go home, have a hot shower and some leftovers, and take further advantage of their new privacy. In the morning they were going to buy dishes, and she was  _ looking forward to it _ , though maybe Killian wasn’t. Amazing, how important such little things seemed.

The sun sank lower. The lights of Storybrooke appeared in the distance. The wind picked up. Emma pulled her hair back into a loose braid and helped adjust the sails.

“Hold her steady a moment, love?” Killian pulled out his spyglass. “I thought I saw something.”

“Sure, what is it?” She took the wheel, shaded her eyes with her free hand and looked that way, but the glare defeated her.

“Not sure. Something in the water ahead… no, someone. Bloody hell.” He adjusted the glass. “It’s Ursula. She’s not moving.”

  
  


They got Ursula on board through a combination of magic and one of the  _ Jolly Roger _ ’s nets, and laid her on the deck. Killian went below for a blanket, as their guest was quite unclothed except for the jeweled bracelet on her wrist that allowed her to assume human form.

“She’s not bleeding,” Emma said when he returned. “And I can’t find anything broken. No missing tentacles... I don’t think.”

“Magic, then?” Killian looked from her to the darkening sea behind them.

“Could be. If this doesn’t work, we could give her some rum.” Emma spread her hands and tried just a touch of power, and jumped back as every one of the mer-witch’s tentacles jolted into writhing life. One and then another curled around Emma’s arm; a third had Killian by the leg.

“It was a trap,” he growled.

“Let us go or--” Magic flared from Emma’s hands, but the tentacles relaxed as Ursula sat up.

“What--where--how did I get  _ here _ ? What did you do to me?” Ursula’s grip tightened again, but this time Emma was ready to restrain her, and surprised to find only physical resistance. She forced the tentacles away, then looped them in magical bands to prevent any further threat, and kept a wary eye on Ursula's hands.

“You’re in Storybrooke,” Emma said. “And we’d like to know why, too. All we did was pull you out of the water. Now it’s your turn. What happened to you? What are you doing in this realm?”

“Let me go. Now.” Ursula straightened up and glowered. “I assure you, I am quite without power.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s ever the case. I wouldn’t trust her, Swan.”

Her glare intensified. “You think I would put up with this if I had a choice? I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember was swimming toward home, looking forward to seeing my father. Then I wake up on  _ your  _ ship. Tell me you’d react any better?”

“It does seem fishy,” Emma allowed. She glanced at Killian to make sure that he wasn’t hurt before she released her hold on Ursula. This time the sea witch kept still. “Do you know how much time you lost?”

“No way to tell.” Ursula looked herself over, frowning. “Not from one realm to another.” She rubbed her head. “I remember… swimming, just swimming for my life. And a light. I suppose I must have opened a portal to get here, but why?”

“Wait, how did you open a portal without magic?”

“That’s just part of being a mermaid.”

“Oh.” Emma stood up. “Well, let’s see what we can figure out. We’ll be back in Storybrooke soon. Maybe someone there knows something.”

“Or maybe someone there is behind it.” Ursula pulled the blanket around her bare shoulders.

“One of our usual suspects  _ is _ out of town right now.” She glanced at Killian. “You’ve got a mirror on board, right?”

“Aye. Below.”

“First stop, then.” Thank goodness they had tidied up down there. “If it’s Gold, he’s almost certainly got any attempt to find him blocked. But If I can see what’s going on with your father, we might have some answers before we make port.”

Ursula switched over to legs, and the three of them went down to the cabin. The mirror on the wall was a little tarnished and rippled from the passing centuries, but it would do.

At least, it  _ should _ do. Emma focused, and the spell worked. The mirror filled with cloudy pale blue water. A few small fish moved in and out of view. They saw no mermaids, though, and no king of the sea. For a moment no one said anything.

“We can be fairly sure he’s not dead, at any rate. But if something’s happened to Poseidon, that might explain both your loss of memory and your arrival here,” Killian said. “Surely anyone who could threaten him would be formidable.”

“Putting it mildly.” Ursula frowned at the stubborn mirror. “To have stolen  _ my _ magic? I suppose if someone got their hands on the trident…. But how?”

“That’s a good question,” Emma said.

 

It wasn’t one that anyone in Storybrooke seemed to have an answer for.

“That was Maleficent.” Emma hung up the phone and crossed her arms. Her parents and Henry looked at her expectantly. “She's got an alibi, and no idea who might have it out for you or your father. That’s all of the short list of people who might have enough magic for this. So let’s see what else we know. Where were you coming back from when whatever it was happened?”

“From what I do remember, I must have been quite close to home. I had been visiting with my cousins for a few days.” Ursula seemed to have recovered her poise, and occupied Emma and Killian’s couch like the queen she was. “You two are the talk of Olympus right now.”

Emma glanced at Killian in time to see him wince. “It’s not something to be embarrassed about. I thought you liked having a reputation.”

“This one might take a bit of getting used to, Swan.”

She squeezed his arm and turned her attention back to their guest. “And it wasn’t anyone from there, you don’t think?”

“They’re not subtle people.” For a mermaid, Ursula could be pretty damn dry. “If one of the gods had some problem with me or my father, they wouldn’t bother with a trap. Ever since I came back from my last trip here, things have been fine at home. There may be some land-dwellers with a grudge, but what could one of them do?”

“Don’t know. That really just leaves one option. We can’t let this lie. Not just for Ursula’s sake,” Emma added when her father looked as if he might object. “We need to know what happened--especially if it was Gold, he could be headed here next.”

“And even if it’s not him, problems born in the Enchanted Forest have a habit of ending up on Storybrooke’s doorstep.” Killian nodded.

“Shouldn’t we talk to Regina before we do anything?” Snow asked.

“She’s… got a lot on her plate right now,” Emma hedged, and glanced at Henry.

“It’s just taking a while to get used to the serum’s effects,” he said stoutly. “It’s a pretty big change for her. And her magic is fine.”

“ _ Seems _ to be fine.” Whether Regina herself was fine, Emma wasn’t sure, but she also wasn’t interested in an argument about it. “She’s still had a tough week, and she’s the mayor. She should be here in case Gold comes back. And ‘we’ aren’t going to do anything, Mom. Killian and I will go take a look. You two need a break, or you’re gonna miss the kid’s first steps or something. And you,” she raised a hand before Henry could protest, “are still grounded, and also not allowed to miss a single other day of school for the rest of this year, and I don’t care if you got extra credit for the topographical map of the Underworld. And Regina agreed.”

“I don’t like the idea of you two going alone.” David shook his head.

“We’re not; we’re going together. And we’re just going to check things out and see if we can find out what happened to Ursula’s dad. Whoever it was must have caught her by surprise. We’ll be going in with our guard up.”

“And how are you going to get there, then?” he asked. “Hook’s ship?”

“That wouldn’t do us any good where we’re headed.” Emma smiled. “We’re going to swim.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emma looked at the harbor, unpromising gray in the pre-dawn light. It had seemed like such an obvious solution twelve hours ago. After all, Regina had turned Snow White into a mermaid once; how hard could it be? And they were  _ looking  _ for mermaids. Right now, the wind felt very cold. She looked up and down the deserted waterfront. The fishing boats had already gone out, and most everyone else was still in bed at this hour.

“There she comes. Another day, another portal.” She watched Ursula climb out of Maleficent’s car and stroll toward them. “You should have told me this was a dumb idea last night.”

“I could have, if I found any fault in it. At least this time we have a choice about going. And there’s considerably less to pack. Are you ready?” Killian asked.

“Think so.” She let go of his hand and tapped her gaudy magic cuff against his. “I feel like Linda Carter.”

His raised brow said that he knew her nervous joke for what it was, even if he didn’t get the reference.

Ursula arrived and looked the two of them up and down. “This is going to be interesting. Me without magic, and you two without any idea what you’re doing.”

“I’m sure we’ll pick it up,” Emma said while Killian bridled.

“Your body will probably try to make you hold your breath. Take a deep one as soon as you hit the water, and it’ll adjust faster.” Ursula shed the coat Maleficent must have loaned her. Her own magic bracelet shimmered on her wrist. She walked off the end of the dock without hesitation and landed with barely a splash.

“Guess we’d better do this.” Most of the reason for leaving early was to avoid anyone watching. Emma stripped down and sat on the edge of the dock -- and did  _ not  _ look at Killian, because she was very cold and this was no time to get distracted -- took a last deep breath of air and activated the bracelet. She didn’t give herself a chance to think, just closed her eyes and pushed herself off the edge. If this didn’t work she was going to feel really stup--

The water wasn’t cold at all. Emma opened her eyes in surprise and thrashed for a moment, her limbs no longer in their usual arrangement. She breathed in without even realizing she had done it until a stream of bubbles filled the water around her head, adding to her confusion since she couldn’t see. Someone caught her hand.

“Relax,” Ursula said, her voice rendered low by the water. “Hold your body still. Just use your hands at first. Slowly.”

“Right.” Emma tried to steady her breathing. Water, she was breathing  _ water _ . A splash a few yards away announced that Killian had followed her. Ursula swam over to make sure he was all right while Emma got herself sorted out.

“Swan?”

“I’m here. I’m fine.” Emma moved her hands as instructed, getting used to the feel of the water around her. She felt light but substantial, supported. Weeds and debris hung suspended around her, but everything shifted with the constant motion of the water. Waves above rolled in counterpoint to the faint tug of the withdrawing tide; even the quality of the light changed continually. She had acquired some webbing in between her fingers, and her skin had a faint shimmery quality. “You okay?”

“This is actually not the strangest thing to happen to me lately.”

Emma laughed despite herself. “Let’s take a look at you.” Reminding herself that she didn’t have two legs to kick with, she tried a wriggle and almost flipped herself upside down. She spent a moment getting oriented and finally managed to swim closer. “Well, that’s… different.”

“I could say the same for you.” His grin reassured her even as Emma spent a pleasant moment drinking in the sight of him. The sun had begun to rise in the world above, enough for her to see blue highlights on his inky scales, the brighter splashes of his tattoos, the dull metal gleam of his hook.

“Bet you never thought you would get this view.” 

“Not for more than a few moments, anyway.” He looked as pleased as she felt, fascinated by the new world around them.

“Not having knees is weird.” Emma looked down at herself and found gold and green scales below her waist, spreading into a wide translucent tailfin. The effect was not unpleasant. She touched her scales gingerly; she didn’t  _ feel _ like a fish. She spread her hands again and gave an experimental shimmy of her tail; it didn’t move her very far.

“Stunning in any world,” Killian said. 

“This is going to be a long trip,” Ursula said, and sighed. “Stick to business? Let’s get the two of you some practice before we go facing the unknown.” She jetted farther out, carapace and tentacles rippling behind her. They looked longer here, below the water.

Emma opened her mouth to argue that time could be of the essence, but her first attempt to follow Ursula left her floundering.

“Fine. Practice first.” She looked over at Killian. He floated on his back, hair waving in the current as he watched the waves roll past just above them. Emma smiled to see him so entranced, and said, “You know, I used to daydream about being a mermaid.”

“Did you.” He looked at he with surprise. “I can’t say that was a fancy that ever crossed my mind.” 

“I suppose you always thought of them as monsters, where you grew up. I guess it was one of the ways I dealt with… things. Never fitting in. Especially in the Midwest.” She shrugged. “Lots of kids do it. Though I always imagined coral reefs and stuff like that, but still -- this is pretty great.”

He caught her hand and twined their fingers together. “Well then, you can show me how it’s done. Shall we?”

They spent over an hour just swimming, while Ursula alternately lectured and demonstrated.  _ Your eyes are practically useless down here. Use your ears, use your  _ skin _. It will be more sensitive than you’re used to, especially to pressure. You’ll be able to feel something close -- hopefully in time to avoid it. _

Emma slowly got the hang of it, although her hair kept floating into her field of vision. She found a bit of wire on the bottom and used it for a tie. The hardest thing was to stop herself from using her hands more than she had to; with a tail, they were only useful for turns and fine adjustments, not for pulling herself through the water “like a barge” as Ursula put it. 

The second hardest was to not keep her head craned up so she could  _ see _ what was in front of her, instead trusting her other senses to let her know before she got that close. Ursula had them swim along the sea bottom, guessing their depth by the pressure around them, and then led them in figure eights around the pilings with their eyes closed. 

The third, of course, was not getting distracted watching Killian, but that had become a daily hazard no matter what they were doing. Emma might be a little biased, but this form suited him well.

“You might not be completely hopeless,” Ursula said at last. “Just don’t try anything fancy.” She swam a ways off again. The familiar whirlpool formed underwater, shot through with violet light.

“I guess this is it.” Emma pulled Killian close. “So what do you think about mermaids now?”

“A splendid people, every one of them.” He pulled her in for a kiss that sent a shiver right down to the tip of Emma’s tail. She meant it to be quick, but couldn’t tear herself away until a derisive snort came from the direction of the portal.

Emma blinked. “Whoa.”

Killian looked a little glassy-eyed himself. “You all right, Swan?”

“Better than all right, but I think she’s getting impatient. Experiment later.” She winked and dove toward the whirling underwater tunnel.

Emma’s novice mer-senses told her that they were in a different sea when they emerged. The water tasted different -- probably less polluted -- and felt different, not just warmer but softer in a way she couldn’t put into words.

“Where are we?” Emma surfaced and turned a slow circle. She saw no landmarks, no reference points, nothing but ocean around a blue sky above.

“A few hours’ swim from my father’s home. I thought it best not to arrive too close.”

“How can you tell? There’s nothing here.”

“I’ve spent hundreds of years in these oceans. I can tell you where we are without recourse to stars or magic. Follow me.”

The reason mermaids sang, Emma soon decided, was because they were bored. Anyone would start talking to themselves after a couple of days of this. Maybe there were subtle shifts that Ursula noticed, but as far as Emma could tell, the sea never changed. If not for the sun, they might have been swimming in circles. No ships, no birds, no schools of friendly porpoises…. 

“I didn’t know there were any oceans this size in the Enchanted Forest,” she said eventually. She had gotten the rhythm of long-distance swimming, a steady stroke-stroke-glide motion that reminded her of ice skating.

“I’m afraid you’ve still seen very little of this world,” Killian said, keeping pace. “The mountains and forests of your parents’ kingdom are only a small portion.”

She spared a moment to admire the play of filtered sunlight across the muscles of his back, and wondered if that was a thread of longing in his voice. She said, “Storybrooke is even smaller. I forget sometimes how much you’ve seen.” For a moment they swam in silence. 

Killian said, “Not really an achievement, love, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just not having anywhere to come back to. I know you have your concerns--”

“I don’t. Really. I think this is great. Not this, specifically, I mean, but back at home.” She glanced over at him. “Honestly. All of this little stuff is exciting.”

“And not just for you.”

“All right, all right. I get it.” She laughed. “We’re falling behind. Onward to the mermaid city!”

 

Emma’s ideas of their destination had perhaps been unduly shaped by Saturday morning cartoons. They swam a wide circle around the place before approaching and found nothing to alarm them but the silence.

“This is it?” she said when she could finally make out details.

“What did you expect?” Ursula’s tentacles kept changing as they got closer with no sign of anyone being present, rippling with anxious color.

“I don’t know.” Pastel castles and giant clams, maybe, with pearls in them the size of her fist. The ocean rendered everything blue and gray. Jagged black rock rose up from the sea floor far below to form a chain of a dozen low islands in the middle of nowhere. Cave mouths gaped in the undersea walls, empty and forbidding. Forests of kelp grew on the upper slopes, and fish darted through the strands. “Are these volcanoes?”

“Yes. This is home.” Ursula swam a little ahead. “And there’s no one here. There should be dozens. We should have heard the singing miles away.” Her voice sounded tight.

“No signs of a battle,” Killian noted, by which Emma supposed he meant  _ no bodies _ .

“That’s slightly reassuring, I guess. Wait,” she added as Ursula darted toward a large cave mouth below. “We should stick together. There could be a trap.”

Ursula ignored her and vanished into the cave mouth.

“Wait out here,” Emma told Killian, and dove after her. The dim light failed almost immediately when she entered the cave. She kept one hand on the wall and moved slowly. Her touch encountered something unexpectedly soft, and she jerked away, losing contact with the rock. Was she supposed to use echolocation here or -- “What?” A dim blue light came from some sort of sea creature on the cave wall. More of them started glowing as the first one touched its neighbors, slow ripples of light outlining Emma’s surroundings. “Ursula?” 

“Down here,” the sea witch’s voice floated back. “There’s no one here.”

Emma followed the sound through a maze of short passages -- or maybe they were rooms? -- and found her in a large cave that was unexpectedly half-full of air. On a rocky shelf around the edge stood chests and boxes, some of them smashed, and bookcases, much to Emma’s surprise. Ursula floated in the water near the shelf, her expression grim.

“Is this the…?”

“My father’s treasure room.” She picked through the debris with her tentacles. “They didn’t take much. The guards’ weapons are outside, as if they just dropped them and left. Those were his most trusted warriors, they would never desert their posts.”

“Someone was in a hurry.” Emma joined her and looked around. “Maybe looking for something specific? What’s missing?”

“Some gems. Valuable to mortals, but they aren’t magic. The shell that can raise the waves is gone. A piece of the moon. A few weapons. Some ingredients used for potions. And you may have noticed, all of the  _ people _ . They can’t have just vanished!” The water around her roiled, tentacles churning.

Emma looked around again, wondering. “We’ll find them. I promise.”

They explored more of the caves and found signs that whatever had happened to the dwellers, it had taken them by surprise. The few objects useful to merfolk had drifted away, or lay on the cave floors where they had been dropped -- musical instruments and sealed jars of surface goods, a knife.

A wrecked ship lay at the base of the next island.

“I don’t remember this.” Ursula swam nearer. “It wasn’t here when I left. There are lookouts posted to keep ships  _ off  _ the rocks, these days.” 

“Let’s take a look, then,” Emma said. 

Here they found human remains, at least, but no others. The sharks had been at the dead for a couple of days, by Ursula’s estimate, but enough pieces remained to get a picture of the sailors.

“This was no merchant ship. That’s the uniform of the Southern Isles,” Killian said. “I don’t imagine they’re on friendly terms with your people.”

“We’ve no particular history with them,” Ursula said. “They’re not often in these waters.”

“Maybe we could find a… dolphin or something that saw what happened.” Emma looked around and saw no possible witnesses to interview.

“Wait, Swan.” Killian swam up to the surface and around the island. When he returned, he said, “Ursula, are the winds here usually from the east?”

“Almost always. That’s why our doors face to the south-west.”

“This ship. If the wind had driven it onto the island, it should have come to ground around the other side. They made it past the first two islands, but not this one. She was fully rigged when she sank; they weren’t making any attempt at caution. If there was no singing, no magic in use to draw her into danger, she must have been captained by a madman.”

“Or maybe it was bait?” Emma looked at the remains of the ship again, at the distance between the islands. “Ursula? If a ship looked like it was in trouble out here, what would your people do?”

“At least some of them would try to help. My father would have, I'm sure. Maybe not everyone," she added. "Just because we don’t wreck them on purpose any more doesn’t mean that all of us are kindly disposed to land-dwellers. But are you saying that some of your people deliberately sank a ship to distract mine? And then launched an attack? That  _ Prince Hans _ has my father’s trident?”


	3. Chapter 3

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Emma said. “If he does have it, what could he do?”

“Almost anything. It has immense power.”

“How bloody wonderful, another one.” Killian sounded more resigned than annoyed. 

“Well, it’s not the Olympian Crystal,” Ursula said. “But he could do a lot of damage, especially with the other stolen items. What I want to know is what he did to my father -- to everyone.”

“We’ll find out,” Emma said. “Whatever he did, it looks like our next stop is the Southern Isles. How far is that?”

“A day’s hard swim,” Ursula said.

“It’s getting dark. Also, I’m starving. If your people live here, I assume there’s food?”

“Kelp.” Ursula waved a tentacle at the undulating beds. “And there are beaches on the leeward side of the islands, good for shellfish and crabs.”

“This may be a dumb question, but… raw?” 

“What else? It’s a hell of a lot better than ramen.”

Emma glanced at Killian’s dubious expression and said, “Oysters for dinner it is, then. Or I suppose I could boil a lobster with magic.”

Ursula rolled her eyes at this display of squeamishness. “Do as you please. I suggest sleeping in one of the caves, or else tying up to some kelp. The tides are strong here, and I’d hate to waste time looking for you in the morning. We leave at first light.” She dove for the bottom, tentacles trailing behind her.

Emma watched her go. “She’s worried.”

“Can’t say I blame her. This is unpleasant business.”

“Yeah. I guess for now we should find something to eat.” One improvised crab boil later, “Could have used seasoning,” Emma said. “But I’ve had worse. Swimming certainly does work up an appetite.” She chucked a crab shell into the water and licked her fingers. 

They had hauled out on the rocky beach on the lee side of a small island. The steady sough of the waves against the rock on the far shore made a pleasant music. The tide had turned; the wide pool by which they had their picnic slowly filled from fissures in the rock below.

“A fine repast, and not to slight our hostess, but all the better for having been cooked.”

“Yeah.” She shifted closer to him and looked up at the sky, where the stars in their thousands had begun to appear. “It’s certainly beautiful. A little chilly up here, though, don’t you think?”

“Is it, now.” Killian gave her a knowing look and with no further ado wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her.

“I love when you do that,” she managed a minute later, heart racing. Loved this new easiness, the lack of hesitation, the sensation of falling and knowing that he would be there. She couldn’t resist a second kiss, open-mouthed and greedy. 

“I have been wanting to do so all bloody day,” he murmured, twining her hair around his fingers.

“What, just ‘cause I’ve been naked the whole time?” She smiled and kissed his jaw, worked her way down to his throat, licked off a bead of salt spray and heard him breathe in. She could taste the whole spectrum of flavor that was his skin now, a thousand subtle variations that struck her like painless sparks, enticing and entrancing. It wasn’t only her lips and fingertips that felt sensitized; her whole body felt responsive in a way it never had before. 

“Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. Never has.” He stroked the length of her spine, then returned to the nape of her neck, teasing.

“We are staying like this, right?” She shivered and slid her hand down his stomach to where scales took over from hair, just around his hip bones and felt him shudder the same way she had. “I’ve always wondered about merman anatomy.”  _ Always _ meaning for most of the past day, at least. Her own had been only modestly rearranged by comparison, the anticipatory ache the same as before and climbing with every touch. She pressed herself against his hand, wondering at the sensation. “Wow.”  

“Aye. You were saying about experimenting.” Killian chuckled, a little breathlessly. “Everything is still there, just tucked away a bit more tidily when, ah, not in use. Better for the swimming, I suppose. And I suspect we truly would catch a chill out here in human form.” 

“Nice.” Emma splayed her hand over the part of his hip tattoo that still showed. She wasn’t over that one. A compass rose, well, lots of sailors had those; it didn’t have to mean anything. That he had gotten it that year in the Enchanted Forest, however, and that the northern point of the compass looked like a feather…. “I still can’t believe you tried to tell me that you’re not sentimental.” She stroked her way lower. Mermaid scales didn’t feel fishlike; they were warm and fine, like rough silk under her fingertips. 

“I didn’t know you very well yet.” He didn’t even sound abashed. His hand wandered down her back again, drawing patterns down her spine. 

“That feels amazing. I never bought it, you know. Not even then.” She continued to kiss his throat and stroke his hip. “You like that?” She was still learning him, even in their usual form. If her own responses to a simple touch were anything to go by, this would be the best kind of torture for them both. 

“Aye. You?” He swept his hand up her side again; she closed her eyes in anticipation. Even though Emma had braced for it, she gasped when his thumb brushed over her nipple. 

“Let’s get in the water,” she said. They slipped into the tide pool. The natural thing seemed to be to twine their tails around one another, keeping them close against the motion of the waves, hands and mouths free to explore.

Wanting him had always been easy, had been uncomplicated. It was everything else that meant they had waited longer for this than Emma had ever imagined she would with anyone. There was nothing routine yet, nothing to be taken for granted. She felt new-made, unhurried wonder greeting every discovery. 

There were differences, and some fumbling as a result before Emma’s giggle turned into a sigh. Her mouth found his; their grip on one another tightened. The motion was different in this form, more subtle. The pleasure was different, too, long, low crests that seemed to have no end. There was no one to hear them, but they were quiet by unspoken agreement, and murmured encouragement and endearments until sated at last. 

They left the tide pool for a cave well below the surface and spent the remainder of the night there, wrapped in one another’s arms and the blue light of the cave creatures. 

Emma woke up with Killian nuzzling the back of her neck. She felt an enormous sense of well-being and a strong desire to pick up where they had left off the previous night. 

“Good morning.” She stretched at luxurious length. Strong sunlight filtered down to the cave mouth. “Looks like we overslept.” 

“Afraid so. Not all bad, is it?” He drew her even closer. 

Emma laughed and turned to face him. “Not at all, but let’s not get interrupted by Ursula, okay? Anyway, I had an idea. I wonder if I could make a locator potion. Ursula said they had ingredients in the treasure room. Potions aren’t my strong area, but she’ll know how to make one even if she doesn’t have magic right now.” 

“True, we do have a mission to complete.” Killian sounded resigned. “Let us rouse our tentacled companion, then.”

They found Ursula asleep, her head resting on her folded arms on the rock shelf in the treasure room.

“Rise and shine?” Emma called. “What happened to leaving at first light?”

No response.

“Ursula?” Emma swam over and shook her. Ursula sighed, turned over, and remained asleep. Her tentacles waved slowly. “Um.”

“Please tell me it’s not a sleeping curse.”

“I don’t think so. Sleeping spell, maybe, but from where.” Emma looked uneasily around and saw nothing changed from the previous day. “It’ll wear off eventually, but who knows how long that’ll take. I’ll see what I can do with this stuff to speed it along. Keep a lookout?”

“As you wish.”

Emma got her legs back and poked around in the remaining spell ingredients, shivering and awkward. “The one time I wish I could make a long-distance call, and there’s no cell service here.” It would have to be potions, and not something she could just throw power at until it surrendered. At least Poseidon believed in labels, unlike  _ some  _ magicians of her acquaintance.

An hour later, Emma added a couple of Ursula’s hairs to the mixture in the seashell bowl, then gave the resulting liquid a jolt of power that turned it a dubious shade of green. Perhaps it was the kelp. Returning to mer-form came as a surprising relief. She swam out to check on Killian. 

“See anything?”

“Naught but a few curious fish. Any change?”

“Not yet. I might need a hand with this part” She led the way back to the abandoned treasure room. “Hope this doesn’t turn her into a toad. Help me turn her over? Down the hatch.” Emma dribbled a bit of the mixture into Ursula’s mouth. It had an immediate effect; every tentacle coiled tight as Ursula jerked away, coughing.

“What the--hell--” She doubled up and ducked under the water, stayed there for a while, and came up again shaking her head. “Have you lost your mind? What was that?!”

“You’ve been out like a light and wouldn't wake up. We were getting worried. How do you feel?”

“Like vomiting, thanks.”

“Sorry. What happened? Did you get hit by a spell?”

“Nothing happened. There hasn’t been anyone in here since we arrived, other than the three of us. Their scent would still be in the water in here. I found some dinner, came in here, looked around for a bit, and went to sleep. Like normal.”

Emma frowned. “That doesn’t sound like magic to me. Are there poisons that work on your people?”

“Other than whatever you just invented? Not very many. We’re magical beings, after all. You think that’s what happened?” She looked around the room with new wariness.

“Yeah. I think someone found a knockout gas for mermaids. I bet they used that wreck as the delivery method. Once everyone was asleep, they came in and stole the trident and did whatever he did to everyone. The stuff has washed out of the water by now, so there’s nothing to smell or taste, but there was enough residue in the creatures that live here for you to be affected. Killian and I weren’t, because I cooked ours.”

“That makes an annoying amount of sense.”

“Cold-blooded,” Killian observed. “To send one of his own ships to the bottom?”

“This is Prince Hans we’re talking about. Far as I can tell, his ambition is exceeded only by his love of his own voice.” Emma explained her locator spell plan to Ursula.

“Not a bad idea,” she agreed. “Let me look around.” She took inventory. “Gryphon tail-feathers  _ and _ tongue, not everyone knows you need both, files from a magnet... yes, yes.... damn. The damp’s got into the oak. No substituting for that.”

Emma sighed. “Leg-work it is, then. Let’s go see what he’s up to.”

“One moment.” Ursula’s tentacles went into a whirl of activity. “We can assemble it except for that, and add the oak pollen if we find some.” She measured and mixed with a speed and assurance Emma had to admire, stoppered the bottle and put it in a string bag that she fastened around her waist. “I need my magic back, this is ridiculous. Now, something that belongs to him….” She caressed a few of the books’ spines, then selected a small golden scroll case, no longer than Emma’s hand and presumably waterproof. She topped off the bag with a scoop of gold coins.

“Good idea,” Emma said. “If we’re visiting the Southern Isles, we’ll probably have to bribe somebody.”


	4. Meanwhile, in Storybrooke

“I don’t know, David, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” Snow studied her menu with a worried look.

“They’ve only been gone two days.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. But now that you mention it--”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Snow. They’re all very capable. But what were you talking about then? Or did you mean coming to Granny’s for breakfast?” He surveyed the morning crowd with a sense of deep well-being at finding the place free of hot peppers. Ever since they got back from Hades' realm, David had taken to putting butter  _ and _ jam on his toast.

“I meant Regina.”

“What about her?”

“She doesn’t seem to be... herself. I said hello to her yesterday and she  _ jumped _ .”

“Well, maybe you startled her. I’m sure she’s got a lot on her mind.”

“David, she  _ apologized _ . For being startled? And she looks odd, don't you think? Sort of peaky?”

“That’s a little unusual, maybe, but I can't see anything to complain about, Snow. She might just have a cold.” He cradled his coffee cup and smiled. “The town is quiet. We have the loft to ourselves again, and for good reasons this time. Neal is sleeping through the night. Henry went to school every day this week. Sure, there's a few minor problems, but I think maybe we're so used to crises that we've started looking for one when there isn't any. Case in point,” he added under his breath as the door jingled and Zelena came in. He raised his voice and said, “Good morning. How's little Robin today?”

“Demanding.” She glanced down into the car seat. “I do hope spending the first few weeks of her life in the Underworld hasn't affected her.”

“Maybe it will give her a taste for travel,” Snow offered.

“There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” David said. “About the town line. Any progress on how to turn Dopey back into a dwarf again?”

“In my copious spare time?” Zelena pursed her lips. “You do know what it's like to have an infant in the house, I think. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about that. It was Nimue's spell, so you'll have to ask her. Which would mean getting hold of the Dark One dagger, and oh, dear me, no one's seen our Rumplestiltskin since New York. I think that's worth a dwarf or two, myself. Ta.” She went on to her usual booth.

“Well, I guess that's that.” Snow sipped her tea. “Maybe he woke up Belle, and they've decided to live somewhere else. Start over.”

“I'm sure everyone would wish them well in that. As long as he isn't taking over the world, or anything. Maybe they'll send us a postcard.”

“I for one would miss Belle,” Granny said, refilling David's coffee. “That girl knew good food when she saw it, and she was always so polite. It was nice for Ruby to have a friend in town, not that that's a—” The bell jingled again. Granny looked at the door and dropped the coffee pot. “Ruby!”

“Hi.” Ruby came a few steps into the diner and gave her grandmother a nervous smile. “Hi, Granny. Um, this is—“

“You must be Dorothy. Come in, both of you! Sit down! I've heard so much about you. Well, sort of third-hand via magical storybook, mostly, but that's no matter. What can I get you? Have some coffee? Oh.” She looked at the mess on the floor. “Let me just, uh, get a fresh pot.”

“Never mind that.” Ruby’s smile widened into a grin as she pulled Granny into a hug. “It seems like years since I left.”

“It does. And I understand you've had some adventures, the both of you.”

“We certainly did. Everything in Oz has been quiet, so we came over to see if you needed any help here.” She turned and caught Dorothy's hand, her smile no longer nervous but sparkling more than her silver shoes with happiness.

“Hallo, Mrs. Lucas,” Dorothy said. “It's very nice to meet you.”

“Why does no one around here have the decency to remain cursed,” Zelena muttered. “Granny, can I have that to go, instead.” In his carry bag, Toto barked. Everyone else elected to ignore her.

David turned his attention from the new arrivals to see a misty-eyed expression on Snow' face. “You're thinking about our wedding, aren't you.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “I wonder how Lancelot is getting on, now that everyone is back.”

“We could ask Henry, but I think we should be careful about that. Don't want him abusing those powers of his just to check up on old friends.” They watched Granny hug Dorothy—a little awkward on both sides, maybe, but sincere.

“I wonder if we should have a word with Granny later,” Snow said. “We do have some experience with a family member's true love turning out to be maybe not quite as imagined.”

“Are you kidding?” Charming looked at Dorothy's sensible boots, kilted skirt, and crossbow, and at the shy smile she gave to a fearsome monster she had just called Wolfie. “I think she's going to fit right in, just like ours did.” Eventually.


	5. Chapter 5

The taste of the water changed; Ursula said they were nearing human lands. An hour later, the Southern Isles rose out of the sea at last, a series of distant bumps that resolved into hills and towers. Very strongly fortified towers, Emma noted, that frowned down upon the crowded port. For some reason when she thought “isles” she hadn't realized the place was... kingdom-sized.

“I don't suppose we can just stroll in and ask the first person we see where Prince Hans is.” The three of them bobbed in the swell near the harbor entrance. Occasionally a ship passed. 

“Perhaps a smidgen of subterfuge is called for.” Killian studied the towers that dotted the wall. “The doings of their prince should be the talk of the town. The difficulty will lie in sorting truth from mere rumor.”

“Most of the people in the city aren't going to know anything for real. We need someone high up. And a reason for them to talk to us.”

“How about ‘they’ll regret it if they don’t’?” Ursula said. “I don’t need magic to sink every ship in this harbor.”

“It is an option,” Emma allowed. “Although I’d like to try some other ones first.” She glanced at Killian. He had that thinking look. “If we can find out where the naval officers hang out, Ursula and I could find a way in and ply them with rum until somebody talks. Or maybe I could go in alone,” she added upon seeing Ursula’s expression.

“A tried and true technique.” He flashed a smile that warmed her. 

“Oh, I’m coming along, believe me. If only because I have to see this,” Ursula said. “Maybe we could sing for our suppers. I have done it before.” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

Emma smiled. “I could magic up a uniform for you, and we’ll talk our way in? It’ll be easier if I have something to work off, though. A few bits and pieces that have already been through a shark are probably missing details.” 

Killian hesitated, but nodded. “I think that will work. Let us find a model, then.” 

They waited until full dark and found a place where they could get out of the water without too much risk of being seen. The biggest immediate problem was Ursula laughing herself helpless while the two of them got used to walking on land again. Emma kept their clothing simple; the skirt/blouse/bodice combination seemed to work for most of the Enchanted Forest kingdoms. For Killian she fell back on a less flashy version of what he had been wearing when they met. 

“Not to nitpick, Swan, but I prefer--” 

“Black, yeah, I know. We’re not supposed to be attracting attention.” She adjusted her outfit. 

“I don’t see how that can be possible, when a man has two such companions.”

Emma fluttered her lashes and then elbowed him in the ribs. “Let’s get our bearings and find a pigeon.” 

They set out into the noise and bustle, and soon found themselves among tavern-goers, dock workers, procurers, entertainers, and vendors. What they did not find anywhere along the waterfront was a navy uniform. In fact, there were not many people about at all who could be identified as sailors. The vendors’ cries had an air of desperate pleading.

“So much for that plan.” Emma sighed. 

“There’s something odd going on here,” Killian opined. “With this many ships in port, there should be twice the crowd.” 

“Could be a plague,” Ursula suggested a bit too cheerfully. 

“They would have posted signs,” Killian said before Emma could get alarmed. “Let’s try there.” 

“You think?” The character of the taverns and dens grew steadily more dubious as they neared the city’s edge, and this one looked particularly low. It seemed to be doing brisk business, however, unlike many of its better-lit competitors. The street vendors had thinned but not disappeared, following their remaining customers. “It does seem to have more exits than necessary.”

“Exactly.”

They walked on down the street past it. A short distance later the ground turned marshy, and a few dark-windowed shacks were the only buildings. They turned back, scouting the area further. Emma noted three separate alleys that looked like they might have access to the back of the place, and watched the patterns of people coming and going. She wasn’t looking for a skip here, but someone with the same nervous kinds of behavior. 

“Them.” Emma nodded. A half dozen men moved down the street in a loose group, all of them with an air of furtive determination. None of them were in uniform, but three wore stained and disheveled remnants of one. “One of them might know something--at least give us a pointer to someone more useful. Let me and Ursula go in first, then you follow. This might be as easy as buying a few rounds. You keep lookout.” 

“I have utmost faith in your powers of persuasion.” 

“I hope that’s all it takes.” They separated, but Emma stopped almost at once as someone approached Killian with an air of familiarity. Killian looked surprised but not alarmed, so she took a few more steps toward where a hopeful flower-seller lay in wait.

“Fancy something for your hair tonight, ladies? Roses? Very fresh!”

Emma pretended to think it over and listened to the conversation across the street. 

“Well, well. Captain Hook. Fancy seeing you here.”

“It's a small world, Mr. Levert. What brings you to these islands?”

“It’s Captain Levert now. Got cargo to sell.” His mouth twitched under a prodigious mustache. “This city has money, and I do hear the navy is away. You lose your ship again?” He surveyed Killian’s attire; his own was far more flamboyant. “I heard about some business with Blackbeard.”

“The  _ Jolly Roger _ is safe and sound and mine. As she should be.” Killian smiled. “I am in the market for something else today. A drink to your promotion, captain? And perhaps some business.”

“I might be persuaded.” He lowered his voice, so Emma had to strain to hear. “Watch your step.  The press gangs have already been through today, but they may return.”

“Fine, I’ll take one.” Ursula bought a tulip and sent the flower-seller on her way. “What is he doing? We're supposed to be looking for someone with navy connections, not an old drinking buddy.”

“He's actually fairly good at this.” Emma fought to control a smile and watched the other captain stroll off down the street before she beckoned to Killian. “What happened to subterfuge?”

“I know the man. No reason not to make use of that.”

“Can you trust him?”

“Of course not.” He grinned. “But he can't trust me, either, and so we have arranged a series of countersigns to ensure that neither of us surprises the other. I'll be fine, love. You have your sources; I have mine. I'll meet you back here with whatever I find.”

“Be careful.” She kissed him and watched him go. “Now then.”

“Honeymoon phase still on, I see,” Ursula said. “You are going to invite us to the wedding, I hope?”

Emma flushed. “We’ve only been living together a week. Not even that, really.” 

“So? True love rescued from the Underworld is a pretty big statement. I hope you don’t think Zeus does that kind of thing every day. Or is it the seating considerations giving you pause? You do have one hell of a family tree.” 

“Ursula, is this really the time?” 

Ursula raised an eyebrow. “What? I feel like I have an interest in your little story, what with nearly drowning the prospective groom that one time.” 

“I just… would like to do one thing in something like a normal way, someday.” However bad the odds might be. “It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, just this is not the time.” 

“If you say so.” Ursula patted her shoulder, not unsympathetically. “But if you want any help, I do have a surprising amount of experience.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s just get on with this. But take it slow, all right? Those guys looked pretty jumpy; we don’t want to scare them off.”  

“Why not? Fear talks.” She strode into the tavern. 

Emma followed, shaking her head. She found the low room to be larger than it appeared, stretching back into a smoky, uncertain distance. Their quarry had a table near the back, and drank with steady determination. They seemed uninterested in any of the passing women, though several stopped to chat. Emma found a spot near enough to eavesdrop on the conversation while she and Ursula nursed their own drinks. 

The fugitives, as they seemed to be, spoke in short, quiet bursts. 

“We shouldn’t be here.” “They got Tommy today.” “We’re fine. They’re well away--” “Not them, it’s all t’other ships short-handed now.” “Just one more.” “Never been so dry in my life.” “One more but then--” “Then we head west, I hear there’s towns’ll take us.” 

“This is a problem,” Emma murmured. “They’re too nervous. Drunk or not, they won’t talk to someone they don’t know if they’re this wound up.” She picked one out to follow if she had to, a short man who initiated most of the conversation. 

“I can fix that.” Ursula hummed for a moment, then started to sing. The place grew quiet, a ripple of silence spreading out around her. 

Emma had never heard her sing before. She had precious few memories that included music, and if she wasn’t careful that could induce melancholy. This song was different, though. Even though she didn’t understand the words, she picked up their sense -- understanding, caring, the lure of rest after laboring, a hint of the pleasant bonds that meant family, only lately familiar. 

The song ended, leaving a wondering and peaceful silence. Emma figured this for her best chance; she got up and made a slow approach to the next table. 

“Evening,” she said with a smile, and barely avoided the table as it was upturned in her direction. 

They scattered like roaches. Emma kept on her target as he went through the back and took him down twenty feet into the alley with a flying tackle. The fellow might be a sailor, but he was no fighter, and also several sheets to the wind. She hauled him to his feet and pushed him against the wall, ignoring his pleas of “don’t take me back”. 

“Shut up. We’re not taking you anywhere. We just want to talk to you,” Emma said. 

“I don’t want to be hanged,” he said with the sudden clarity of the very drunk.

“Then be quiet, for god’s sake, and answer our questions.” She had his full attention. “You’re a sailor. You’re in the navy. Were you with Prince Hans when he attacked the mermaid islands?”

“I was on his ship,” the man confessed. “I deserted soon's we landed here. Don't turn me in, I'll give you anything you want, just don't—”

“All we want is information,” Emma said. “About what Prince Hans has planned. You say you were on his ship. What has he done to Poseidon?”

“He's got them all. Dozens of them in a little glass bowl. Laughing, he was—I won't go back on that ship, not for my life, not with a man who laughs like that. I'm done with the sea forever.”

“A bowl? You're saying he... shrank them? The mermaids? Including Poseidon?”

“Turned them into little fishes, is what he did, and keeps them where he can gloat over ‘em.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “He put something in the grog. Don't know what it was. To keep us from hearing the singing. They was almost all asleep when we found the island, all but a few, and we took care of those. Argh!!” A tentacle seized his shoulder and tightened, hard.

“Where is Hans now?” Emma said.

“I don't know!”

“I am low on patience, mortal.” Ursula wrapped a tentacle around each of the man's limbs and tugged in four directions at once. Another around his throat silenced his yell; his eyes bulged as her grip tightened.

“I think you've made your point. Maybe we could ask him again,” Emma said.

“I don't know where he's gone! I swear! They sailed off two days ago, no one knows where he's headed, just that he can't be stopped. Said they was pressing everybody within a mile of the city for his warships.”

“And yet you managed to escape? I think you're lying,” Ursula said.

“I'm not! I was dead drunk, been hiding for days under a broken wagon on the other side of town. I needed a drink today,” he confessed. “And I heard he was gone with all of the rest, so I come down here to find damn near every able-bodied man on the docks went on those ships. No one knows where! Just that he said he's got one crown now, and he's sworn to have a dozen before he sets foot on this island again.”

“I couldn't care less whose crown he takes, as long as he gives back my father's.” She dropped the man ten feet to the ground. “I hope I don’t need to tell you--”

“My lips are sealed, lady.” He took to his heels, limping. 

Tentacles writhing in frustration, Ursula growled, “Someone must know where they've gone.”

“We’ll find them.” Emma sighed and leaned against the wall to wait for Killian. “You want to play ‘I spy’? I bet I can come up with at least fifteen clues for ‘rat’.” 

“I want to know what Hans came up with that’s proof against mermaid song. He’s no wizard.”

“Do they have one here? At court, maybe?”

“They hate magic with a passion. They’ll use it, but they won’t have it in the house.” Ursula pulled her tentacles in and tapped them along her arms thoughtfully. “I wonder, though. There’s only so many ways a thing like that could be done. And even lands that fear magic tend to know where they can lay hands on it when they want to. There will be someone in this city who has the knowledge.” 

“What are you thinking?” Emma asked. 

“That we should go shopping.”

 

“Arendelle,” Killian said, strolling into the alley an hour before dawn. “They set sail for Arendelle.”

“And where did you find that out?” Ursula asked.

“Prince... Bertram, I believe it was, the seventh son. Being the youngest of thirteen no doubt has its disadvantages, but being squarely in the middle is a poor lot indeed. Especially when the youngest appears to have triumphed. If he wants twelve crowns now, it's not so he can share them out with his siblings, I assure you. Captain Levert was most anxious to show off his new connections,” he added laconically as he slipped his arm around Emma. “Did your venture meet with success?”

“I would say so,” Emma said, leaning into him. “We found the last ingredient for that locator potion, too. At least we can move faster than they do.” 

“Brilliant. Though there is a small wrinkle there, I’m afraid. Rumor has it that they’re bringing a hurricane along.”


	6. Chapter 6

“He’s… what?” Emma blinked. 

“He used the conch shell.” Ursula sighed. “Of course he wouldn’t be able to resist calling up a storm.” 

“He’s going to hit Arendelle with a  _ hurricane _ ? We have to stop him.” 

“He has my father captive,” Ursula reminded her. “And all of the others, if that sailor can be believed. We need a plan.” 

“Agreed,” Killian said. “But we can discuss that along the way. What did you learn?” Emma and Ursula got him caught up as they walked back toward the harbor. They avoided the occasional uniformed patrol and got breakfast from a street vendor who was handsomely rewarded for rising early. 

“Keep the change,” Ursula said, and left him staring in bewilderment at the gold coin in his hand. 

“So that explains what the mirror showed, anyway,” Emma said as they continued on. “All of those little fish were them. Now we just have to find Hans, steal back the trident, and get Ursula’s magic back. And stop the storm.”

“As long as that’s all. No problem.” Ursula sprinkled the last ingredient into the locator potion and gave the bottle a shake. She got out the scroll case that belonged to Poseidon and hesitated as she looked at the two of them. “Thank you. I know we’ve had a bit of an up and down history, our peoples and among the three of us, but… I appreciate this.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Emma said with an encouraging smile. “Let’s go find him.” 

They swam all day, following the glowing scroll, and they felt the storm long before they could see it. The power in it prickled along Emma’s skin whenever she broke the surface. The feeling grew stronger as the scroll led them closer to Ursula’s father. The sky darkened; heavy bands of rain fell, rendering the underwater world dim and cloudy. Lightning streaked across the sky. Green phosphorescence danced on the tips of the waves. 

Despite the urgency of their mission, Emma felt some of that wild energy seep into her. The power of the storm was nothing to fear, not for them. She surfaced to get her bearings, then dove again to catch Killian’s hand and pull him upward with her. They raced the waves and flung themselves heedless from the crests, flashed in and out of sunbeams that lanced through the scowling thunderheads. 

“We’re getting close!” Killian said over the sound of the water and wind. 

“How can you tell?” Emma yelled back. Rain hammered the ocean surface and mixed with the spray. 

“Darkness dead head of us. That’s the center of the storm. We’ll want to go deep; the winds at the surface will be quite fierce.” 

“And inside it is Hans’ fleet.” Emma paused and let the waves carry her forward before they dove back down to where Ursula swam a straight and determined course. “I really hope this plan works. Ready to bait the hook?” 

 

Ursula put up little resistance to being hauled out of the water and onto the deck. Surrounded by jumpy sailors with drawn swords, she drew her tentacles in close. In its incongruous circle of calm, They kept her waiting for some time before a trumpet blast announced the prince’s arrival. 

To his usual finery Hans had added an elaborate golden crown, and he cradled the stolen trident like a sceptre as he ascended the stair to the main deck. The magic conch shell he wore on a baldric, opposite his sword. 

“If you fall overboard wearing all of that, you’ll sink like a rock,” Ursula said. 

“Well, well. This is quite the catch.” Hans smiled at the dripping octopus-woman on his deck. “I admit, I thought I had seen the last of you when you were running for your life a while back. Is this what family loyalty looks like? Walking into the jaws of death in a foolish attempt to save the unsaveable? You can keep it.” 

“You’re never going to succeed,” Ursula said. “All of this for a crown? Some king you’ll be.” 

“Who’s going to stop me? You? Your power is safe in here, where it belongs.” He patted the trident. “Your voice can’t touch these men now, and it certainly can’t touch  _ me _ . Or maybe you haven’t looked around you. I’d like to see Elsa freeze  _ this _ . Ah-ah,” he added when a tentacle snuck around behind him. “You put that back where it belongs, or your people end up swimming free... as minnows. If they’re lucky. Or I could make them all into ornamental statues, put them around the capital in the fountains. I suppose I’ll have to pick a capital. I fancy somewhere sunny, what do you think?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. 

“I think you’re off your head.”

“What an unfortunate turn of phrase. I’m reasonably certain we have an axe on board.” A slight motion of a gloved hand brought an officer running; a murmured command and the man trotted off again. “Won’t be a moment.”  

“Wait.” Ursula tried to adopt a conciliatory tone. “You don’t have to do this. Let’s talk.”

“‘You don’t have to do this, Your Majesty’,” he corrected. “But what is this? The Sea Witch herself, begging for mercy?” He smiled. “Please, feel free to continue -- while you’re being chained like the monster you are. Can’t have you wriggling free.”

 

Underwater, Emma fretted. “How long should we give her? What if we don’t hear anything? This was not a good idea.”

“Sound carries.” He swam just below the flagship’s hull. “Listen.” 

She did. Here in the storm’s eye, the roar of the wind seemed distant. She heard waves meeting wood, hurrying the ship along ahead of a dozen others in Hans’ conscripted invasion force. Boots thudded on the deck, men shouted commands to one another, chain rattled…. 

“Perhaps we ought to begin, so that once she counteracts the spell, there will be no delay.” 

“We should have rehearsed something. I can’t think of a song.” This was worse than learning magic, worse than giving speeches. Every tune she had ever hummed in the shower was gone. 

Killian did an underwater barrel roll. “I’ll start, then, and you join in.  _ There's an ancient legend _

_ An oceanic tale _

_ An underwater monster not a fish and not a whale....” _

“What is that?” Emma asked, half-laughing despite herself as she caught up with him. 

“We’re trying to frighten them, aren’t we?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, resuming the song of the leviathan. Emma rolled her eyes but joined in when the second chorus came around, and by the end of the song her nervous voice had gained confidence. This magic felt different from anything she had done before, breath instead of blood, but she could feel the power in it. 

They did “This Ship is Going Down” for black humor, and then “Buy the Captain Rum”, which Killian liked because it usually made Emma laugh. Emma started on “Stormalong” and got an approving grin. 

_ Come on, Ursula, give us a sign. _

 

A creature of the rocky depths, Ursula had little experience with climbing in the surface world. This looked like the best possible time to begin. As a man with an axe climbed out from the hold, she flung out her tentacles, knocking the sailors around her aside -- one of them directly into his prince. Then she reached up, seized hold of as many parts of the rigging as she could, and pulled herself upward. 

Once out of reach, she clung to the mast with all of her limbs as the unfamiliar height and the sway of the ship made themselves felt. Forty feet above the deck was no way to find out you don’t like heights. Some of the sailors had already begun to climb, and they were very quick. The sky darkened as Hans raised the conch shell to his lips; the storm eye contracted around the fleet with terrifying speed. 

She had carried a bottle onto the ship, hidden in a curl of her tentacles, the fruits of her night’s excursion with Emma. She closed her eyes and uncorked it now. The wind caught the contents and whirled them down over the swarming sailors. 

They paused and looked at one another as the antidote took effect, and the magic protecting them from mermaid song dissipated in a swirl of green fog. One by one the sailors stopped their work. They hung in the rigging or stood motionless on deck, listening.

Ursula’s throat felt dry as sand. She kept her eyes shut and inched her way down the swaying mast. Lightning stabbed out of the encircling wall of clouds as Hans used the trident’s power to strike at the water around the ship, his face a mask of rage. One bolt struck the foremast; wooden splinters showered Ursula. 

She blinked away afterimages and located Hans, the one moving figure on the deck below, drew back a tentacle and punched him right off the ship. He dropped the shell as he pinwheeled through the air, and the trident when he hit the water. 

 

“Killian!” Emma broke off the song. 

“I see it. Get him!” He dove after the conch shell, sinking far more rapidly than the trident and soon to vanish into the depths. 

Emma grabbed the trident before it could fall out of sight, and as an afterthought grabbed Hans, too. She broke the surface with a rush, keeping pace with the ship. “Ursula? You all right?”

A minute passed before their friend leaned over the rail. “I’m here.”

“Take this and find your father.” Emma passed up the trident to her tentacle. 

“The shell?”

“Killian’s got it. Just go!” The ship foundered in the heavy seas, the sailors on board still song-mazed, the lightning-struck mast atilt. Heavy waves broke over Emma’s head, which didn’t bother her, but gave her prisoner some trouble. Hans choked and spat out seawater and threats. “Oh, shut up,” Emma told him. “I may be only a temporary mermaid, but I can not-temporarily drown you if you don’t stop thrashing,  _ Your Highness _ .” She swam along in the ship’s wake, frustrated by her inability to dive while towing Hans and increasingly worried. 

Off in the distance a note sounded, low but penetrating, cutting through the roar of the wind. A second followed, softer, descending. The storm pulled back as swiftly as it had risen; the waves began to calm. The sun broke through again. The ship lost speed. Confused signal flags went up on the other vessels. At last Emma saw sunlight flash on black scales as Killian made his way back toward the ship, conch in hand. 

“Couldn’t resist.” He grinned at her. “And I see you have a prize, as well. Doesn’t look like much of a king from here.” 

“A rat with a crown is still a rat. C’mon. Let’s go say hi to Ursula’s dad.” 

 

“Tell the part where you punched Hans again,” Anna said. “I liked that part.” She leaned forward and cradled her cup of hot chocolate, eyes sparkling. “And what did you do with him, after?” Around them the Arendelle court chattered and murmured, intrigued by the visitors who had arrived that afternoon.

“Well, we talked about that,” Ursula said, sipping her drink with care, “all of us merfolk, and we decided that it would be fitting for him to learn what life in the sea is really about. So we turned him into a sponge.”

“Only for a year,” Poseidon said with a laugh. “Next year he’ll get to be a starfish. And then a snail, perhaps, and so on. His fleet has gone home.” 

“Very just,” Elsa said with a nod. “And I can’t thank you enough for handling him. Even if I  _ could  _ freeze a hurricane, I’m not sure anyone on land would have enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t anything to my credit.” He smiled at his daughter. “The fellow won’t be bothering anyone for a while.”

Farther down the table, Emma asked, “So what were you and Kristoff talking about? You two were very thick for a while in the corner there before you disappeared entirely. I thought you were going to miss dinner.” The master of etiquette had responded with aplomb to the unexpected arrival of the sea god, his daughter, and the Crown Princess of Misthaven-in-exile, as he had determined to be Emma's title to be, and she was going to be blushing for at least a week. Captain Jones, at least, had not presented a problem.

Killian smiled. “Swapping embarrassing stories about your father. I’ve run out.” 

That sounded plausible. Emma felt a tingle of suspicion that had nothing to do with magic powers, but so she let it go. In the corner, the musicians struck up a new song. 

“I know this one,” Ursula said. “It’s very old.” 

“Our parents used to bring musicians here from all over the world,” Elsa said. “Since none of us traveled for so long. It’s a tradition I thought was worth keeping, even though we’re not so isolated now.” 

“Do you know the words?” Anna asked. “I only know the tune, but it’s a lovely one.” 

“Perhaps later,” Ursula said with a secret look. “Once the court has retired.” 

“Oh.” Anna got a little wide-eyed. Poseidon settled into a discussion of Arendelle’s history with Elsa and pretended not to notice. 

After dinner, Emma and Killian went for a walk. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she said as they left the bright gathering. “I mean, Ursula teaching Princess Anna the words to every dirty song she knows from singing in taverns would probably be something to see.” 

“But nothing compared to the pleasure of your company.” 

“...And you already know the words to all of those songs?” She grinned.

“There is a good possibility,” he allowed. They walked in silence for a while along the battlements. Emma glanced sidelong at Killian until he noticed. “What is it?”

“Nothing, really. Happy is a good look on you.” 

“Likewise, Swan.” 

She stopped and leaned on a bit of stonework. “Wow, you can see forever up here. Fairy tale castles get the best views. You don’t miss having a tail?” 

“Perhaps a bit? It was interesting. Not sure I would want to make a permanent change.” He settled next to her, looking from the mountains to the narrow spur of ocean. 

“No french fries on the ocean floor.” Emma leaned against him, as she often did these days. There was passion often enough in their touch, but there was also this; after everything, she valued nothing so much as these moments of contact. Hands intertwined, or his arm tucked close around her, her head fitted neatly between his shoulder and chin -- it wasn’t so much a sheltering feeling as a rightness, a grounding.

“That would be a true loss.” His arm tightened a bit; he turned his head to brush his cheek across her hair. “Also, the accommodations underwater leave a bit to be desired.” 

“You want to head back to Storybrooke tonight? Our own bed?” She looked up at the sky and drew in a breath. Maybe it was magic, but there was nothing like this view in the world she had grown up in. Even in Storybrooke the light wasn’t the same. Beanstalks, ogres, wannabe kings, sure, but there was this, too... and someplace to go back to.  _ Ours. _

“I’m willing to wait until morning.”

“Good.” They leaned in silence and watched the shooting stars fall. “It’s getting cold out here. Want to head back in? They’ll probably give us separate rooms.”

“Undoubtedly. However,” Killian turned and offered her his arm, “I think I’ve identified the person to bribe in order to get a connecting door.” 

“Always travel with a pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone who came along for this bit of silliness! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you've enjoyed reading.


End file.
